


Baking

by SirKris



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, It's just sweetness all around, Romance if you squint, Sherlolly - Freeform, Teasing Molly, Teasing Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1859868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirKris/pseuds/SirKris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft scares Molly into checking up on Sherlock and learns that the consulting detective can bake very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baking

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic inspired by a Tumblr prompt.

Molly was very surprised to get a text message from the elder Holmes. After all, what would the British government want with her? It turns out that he did in fact need her help.

_Miss Hooper. I apologize for interrupting your late tea time, but I may need you to check on Sherlock. I fear my brother may be having a danger night. –MH_

She didn't bother wondering how he knew she was having tea at the moment. Molly was more concerned about the implications. John had mentioned to her before about 'danger night' and how Sherlock could get bored enough to dabble on narcotics. It would take too long for him to get to Sherlock, seeing how he and Mary lived outside of London. and if she recalled correctly, Mrs. Hudson was away for a niece's wedding. This might explain why Mycroft contacted her.

Sherlock hadn't shown any signs of a relapse at the lab today, but the fact that he was all alone without anyone to check up on him was disconcerting. Without a second thought, she got dressed and rushed off to hail a cab.

 

* * *

 

Baker Street certainly felt weird without Mrs. Hudson's telly playing or her occasional laugh. Molly knew there was no point in sneaking up on him, but she did her best to climb up the stairs as quietly as possible, only to find the door shut; no, locked.

That was her first warning bell. Molly dug into her bag to look for the spare key she never thought she would ever need with urgency. It was when he shakily fumbled the key into the keyhole that she noticed the bottom ledge had been sealed off with a cloth.

Terrible thoughts and scenarios were rushing through her head as she burst into the room.

"Sherlock! Are you okay?"

She was so panic driven that it took several seconds to notice that the room was filled with a sweet scented air, as if someone was…baking?

Molly walked further into the living room to look peak into the kitchen.

Sure enough, there was the consulting detective frozen in mid stance as he held a tray of freshly baked macarons. It was difficult to tell who was more shocked to see the other; Molly, who had been expecting to find him Od-ed on the floor somewhere or Sherlock who look positively scandalized at being caught wearing a checked purple apron and orange mitts.

"Um." Molly felt as if she had infringed on a very private moment and wasn't sure what to say next.

Sherlock was the first recover as he carefully put the tray on the counter before facing her with his usual mask of indifference.

"Hello, Molly. Would you mind shutting the door?"

Molly scuffled to close the door, and was relieved that Sherlock wasn't kicking her out yet.

"Sorry about the fuss," she apologized. "I thought something bad had happened to you."

"It's Mycroft isn't it?" He laughed bitterly when her nod confirmed his suspicions.

"Typical. What did he tell you? No don't tell me. He said that it's a 'danger night' right? "

Molly could only nod sheepishly. She suddenly felt very foolish about the whole thing. Instead, she chose to examine what he had made; macaroons, eclairs, napoleons. There was quite the assortment of desserts.

"So," she nodded impressively. "You bake."

"Yes," he replied tersely.

"Are you opening up a pastry shop?" she giggled.

"No."

It could have been the heat, but Molly would have sworn that Sherlock's face flushed at her jibe. It then occurred to her that he might be embarrassed about the whole thing, not that he would ever admit it, but she could see how he would be self-conscious about the whole thing. She looked at the different pastries on the table for a talking point when she noticed a certain pastry on the table.

"Is that a baklava?! It looks so perfect," she gushed. He glanced at the dessert.

"Oh that? It's elementary."

Molly huffed at his arrogance. "Don't make fun of my skills. The phyllo dough always breaks when I try to make it."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You bake?" Now it was her turn to blush.

"I've never seen any indication of that at your flat."

"I used to be a die hard baker during my uni days, though I admit I had more fun eating. But I haven't baked in years" she explained. He seemed satisfied with that answer as he wrapped up the macarons with parchment. Molly shifted nervously as she asked.

"Can I help?"

He eyed her carefully for several seconds. Molly figured he knew what she was trying to do but didn't let it discourage her.

"If you're not done, I mean."

"Fine," he relented. I'm making a black forest next, you can start on that. An apron is in that drawer, the grocery bags over there and are some clean bowls in the cupboard to your right."

They worked in comfortable silence for a while as Molly mixed ingredients together and he meticulously stacked the desserts in the fridge, which was surprised to notice was free of body parts. He eventually joined in to help prepare the cake and argued good-naturedly about techniques—'I know my chemistry Molly, you can't win this'—he kept reminding her. So she chose to tease about their matching aprons.

After an hour of amiable conversations, Molly finally braved up to ask the question that was lingering in her mind.

"So can I ask why are you baking all of this?"

"It's Mycroft's birthday tomorrow," he said without missing a beat.

Molly narrowed her eyes at him. It was highly unlikely that he was doing this out of brotherly love.

"I'm surprised you even know that."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, I can't quite seem to be able to delete familial dates or obligations very easily. But no matter," he said cheerfully, "I do so love to torture him with baked goods he can't eat."

Ah, so that's the catch. "So you're making pastries he can't eat, because it's his birthday?"

"Yup" he said, popping the last consonant.

Molly was confused. "Why, is he on a diet or something?"

"And he's lactose intolerant," he added mischievously.

"Sherlock!" Molly swatted his shoulder playfully. "That's awful." He gave a hearty laugh at her reaction.

"He deserves it."

"I'm sure you think he does." Molly shook her head. Then it hit her.

"Oh! So that's why he wanted me to come here. It's his danger night."

Sherlock eyed her with mock surprise. "Wow, that took an hour too long for you to realize."

"Shut up," she bumped against him. He pulled up his dashing smirk in response.

"Wait, why are you so sure he's going to eat them? He could just throw them away."

"He wouldn't. To Mycroft, wasting dessert is a crime worse than treason."

Sherlock snickered wickedly. "He'll just have to run on the treadmill for a few months to burn these off. Hey!"

Molly had swiped a bit of cake batter on his cheek. Molly giggled in triumph until she saw him take a large scoop from the bowl. Her eyes widened in horror.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes if you dare" she warned, backing away from the kitchen. He was approaching her menacingly with the big blob of batter in his hand, ready to chuck it at her.

"You started this."

"But the cake!"

"I have more ingredients to make another batch."

Without warning he hurled the mixture at her, right in the face.

"Sherlock!" she screeched as he doubled over in laughter.

"You will pay."

 

* * *

 

Mycroft didn't get an update from Molly regarding Sherlock that night. He could only hope that revealing Sherlock's culinary skills would spare him for another year. Having John as a roommate had interrupted his brother's antics, but now with the doctor happily married off, he had reason to be concerned about the cruel tradition resuming. So it was much to his dismay when he got twice the quantity of cakes and desserts he had ever received at a time the next day.


End file.
